The weather people have been predicting nasty weather in a couple of days, especially in the direction I’m heading so I’ll enjoy the sunshine as long as I have it. Today started off with a gourmet breakfast at the motel (Raisin Bran, what else?) Then I discovered that sometime between last night and this morning the zippered bag that holds the bike cover disappeared. I left it under the cover on the bike’s saddle and I suspect it fell out and blew away or maybe one of the kids from hell who were still running around at midnight adopted it. It doesn’t matter, it was a cheapie and not worth worrying about.
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On the road early, I headed south on 4 towards the intersection with 13 and the curious little town of Cadillac, Saskatchewan. The ride seemed to take longer than I’d expected and the constant heavy cross winds took some of the pleasure out of the ride. Cadillac is another time warp town from early last century. Small ramshackle houses mixed with dilapidated buildings set the stage for what must be the quietest existence imaginable. The little town is clean and tidy in spite of the gravel streets and its citizens show their sense of humor in their street signs, most named after cars. Several of the buildings are for sale or abandoned and now that I’ve moved on I wish I’d inquired about their asking prices. The Catholic Church, perhaps aptly named Our Lady of Confidence was especially inviting. One Mass, Sunday at 1:00pm. How could anyone resist a schedule like that? Catholics like to sleep in, especially on Sundays. Trust me, I know these things.
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For the next couple of hours I struggled against the wind, not having a particularly good ride but the views were great and that made up for it some. It was around that time the low-fuel warning light came on and I noted I had put a little over 150 miles on the tank. The reserve factor allows for around 35 miles so I kept a sharp lookout for a gas station. Right, wishful thinking LL. I fully expected to run out at the 185 mile point as I’d been pushing it pretty hard while dealing with the wind factor. When a small Co-op facility showed up on the horizon I was thankful as all get out, the odometer had hit 190 miles and the fumes I’d been running on were fast disappearing. I’m clueless what the cost-per-liter was but at that point I’d have been willing to pay top dollar as pushing a bike doesn’t qualify in my world of entertainment. The guys were friendly and asked questions about where I was headed, etc., but the earplugs I was wearing prevented me from much in-depth conversation so with happy manly waves all around I rode off into the sunset. Or was it mid-morning into the wind storm?
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Then it was lunch time. Why do I look forward to eating so much when I’m traveling? What I call highway food hardly ever qualifies as a gastronomical delight. But there it was, the little village of Lafleche on the left just down a short road. I couldn’t resist and after taking the full one-minute tour of the town I chose The Lafleche Café as my preferred place to eat. It was also the only place to eat. Ordinarily I tend to avoid cafes that leave their doors open, especially in small towns with dusty streets. Seems like a small concession to health standards, sort of like the 30-second rule, but in this case I was hungry and ready for a rest break.
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Entering through the always-open door I noted the lady who was probably the proprietor, an elderly Chinese woman who looked as dour as could be. She was giving me an unsmiling look over and didn’t say word one when I entered. I was the only one there and for a moment I wondered if they were actually open or if I’d arrived just as they were closing for the wake. She continued to say nothing as I perused the black chalk board listing the lunch specials and turning to her I asked, “Do I give my order to you?” She came very close to moving, I could tell as one of her eyes sort of blinked. I took that as a yes so I said “I’d like the hamburger steak please.” She continued to say zip but turned and headed towards the rear which I presumed would be the kitchen. What if she’d just gone home? I sat down at one of the little tables and awaited my fate. I had a perfect view of the Ninja parked in front of the open door, looking for all the world like a lonesome dog who wanted to come inside. Inside the front window a huge bee buzzed in frantic circles non-stop, looking for an escape route. Occasionally it would start in my direction but then turn back to familiar territory and continued banging against the glass. I kept my fingers crossed that it wouldn’t decide my helmet sitting on the chair next to me looked like an inviting place to reside.
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Lunch arrived; a generous sized hamburger patty smothered in brown mystery gravy and fried onions, the shortest French fries I’ve ever seen, a wedge of watermelon, and the requisite orange slice. A buttered hamburger bun poised on top of everything served as the garnish. Odd little touch there but maybe that’s how it’s done in Lafleche? The silent lady deposited my plate of food and spun on her heels to leave. “I’d like coffee too” I said, probably sounding a little frantic. I was hoping not to offend her and although she didn’t reply I was pretty sure she’d heard me. Back she came in 30 seconds or so with a cup of freshly brewed Farmer Bros, my favorite alternative to Starbucks. I thanked her and as expected her response was silence. Had she taken a vow I wondered?
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Then low and behold, another customer came in and sat himself down across the room without so much as a grunt. I heard him mumble his order to the lady and as she apparently treats everyone the same, responded with dead silence. A few minutes later she buzzed by my table and topped off my coffee which surprised me. I said “Thanks” and of course by now you know what she said back. Finished with what was a pretty tasty lunch – exclude the hamburger bun thank you – I headed to her station at the rear of the café. She rang up the bill and noticing the small sign stating “no credit or debit cards” I paid with the only cash I had. Lucky I had enough, I usually rely on plastic. And then guess what? She said “Thank you” in the softest quietest little voice.
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The wind continued to wear me down and I found myself pausing for rest stops more frequently. I was getting tired so I decided to look for a place to hole up earlier than usual. Fortune smiles on the weary traveler sometimes as I pulled into the sizeable town of Wayburn. Noting there were lots of big-name businesses I tooled along through town looking for a motel and there it was, OMG, Motel 6, my favorite place in the whole world! It looked different from the other Motel 6’s I’d stayed at in the past but I was tired and just wanted to crash for the day. While filling out the registration form I noticed a stack of business cards on the counter bearing the name Circle 6 Motel…. uh oh…. What’s that all about I wondered? “Isn’t this a Motel 6?” I asked the lady. “Oh no, we are Circle 6 Motel, very good, very clean, you like.” Hmm… “How much are the rooms?” I asked. “Oh, very reasonable, only $65.” “That’s a bit higher than the other Motel 6’s I stay at” I mumbled as I handed over my plastic. She gave me my key – yes, a real brass key boys and girls, no fancy electronic security locks to deal with in this place. From the outside the motel looks dated but inside this is one of the nicest places I’ve stayed in, either totally restored to 1970's specs or maintained in perfect condition. It was just as she said, and yes, “I like.”
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Dinner was a rare treat; McDonalds Big Mac, fries, the lot. Most of the people were old folks yelling at one another hoping to penetrate waxy build up on aging ear drums. The only other diner was a middle-aged pot bellied guy wearing a sleeveless Harley T-shirt who was wolfing down a Big Mac. My kind of dinner companion I thought so I sat at the table next to him and opened up the conversation with “You steal the shirt or just find it lying around?” I really know how to impress Harley guys. We hit it off and for the next half hour we had an enjoyable time trading lies and bike stories. Sometimes I can lie with the best of them.
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Then it was back to the non-Motel 6 motel where I managed to do something fatal to my Internet configuration. That means this little ditty will have to wait to be posted until I can get in touch with the support people, maybe tomorrow.
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Thank God the ice machine works.
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May 31 Postscript: Evidently there was something wrong with Circle 6's connection as my PC works fine at the new location today. Or tomorrow? Whatever it is...
The longish ride through Saskatchewan farm lands was pleasant and it saddened me to leave. It must be a very wealthy Province as many of the ranches and farms boast meticulous yards and entrances to their properties.
